Choukoutien
by Anne Davies
Summary: An odd little novella I've actually managed to finish for once.  Stress does odd things to the unconsciousness.....
1. Chapter 1

December 1941

**3 Marines Reported MIA Following Attack**

PEKING, CHINA—A platoon of Marines was attacked yesterday while guarding a shipment of fossils, nicknamed Peking Man, which had recently been unearthed in Choukoutien, China, by many of the same archaeologists who found the famous Piltdown Man in 1912. The shipment had been en route to the port city of Qinghaundou prior to the attack.

3 Marines were reported missing following the attack. We at the Bayport Gazette wish to extend our condolences to the families and friends of Sergeants Frank Hardy and Allen "Biff" Hooper of Bayport, New York and Captain Ned Nickerson of River Heights, Ohio.

Vigils will be held tonight at nine at the South Bayport Methodist Church for Sergeants Hardy and Hooper and at seven tomorrow night at the River Heights Presbyterian Church for Captain Nickerson.


	2. Chapter 2

"What do you want with us?" Frank Hardy shouted, pulling on the bars of the cell he, Biff Hooper, and their platoon captain, Ned Nickerson, had been unceremoniously thrown into. "Answer me!"

No response.

"Knock it off, Hardy."

"For what, Cap?" Frank snapped. "I for one don't intend to just sit in here and rot for the rest of my life!"

"Frank—" Biff started, but ended up grimacing and clasping his shoulder. It was nothing major, just a bullet graze from the skirmish. But still painful. "Frank," Biff started again, "shouting's not going to help. You're starting to sound like Joe."

"Why us?" Frank moaned, sinking down onto the single cot next to Biff and crossing his arms. He glared at the floor.

Boots clicked on the floor, and two soldiers came into view. "You," one said haltingly as he unlocked the door and motioned to Frank. "Come with us."

* * *

Joe Hardy sat rigidly in the pew, staring at the candle-lit altar. Beside him, Callie Shaw kept shooting him concerned looks. 

"You okay?" she finally whispered, leaning over so as not to disturb the other people in the congregation.

"Yeah," he finally said. But he wouldn't look at her.

* * *

_Dear Frank,_

_I know you're probably not going to get this for a while, but I thought I'd write this anyway. It's therapeutic for me, writing to you now that we're involved in this war. Okay, so that's not the greatest way to start off a letter. Goes to show just how tired I am and how worried I am about you._

_Joe didn't say much at the vigil we held for you and Biff. In fact, he hasn't really spoken much at all since we heard you went MIA. The rationing thing is still on full force. There've been Red Cross volunteers in and out of your house since day before yesterday, when we first heard you were MIA. _

_I seem to remember this Captain Nickerson you were under. Didn't we meet him and his girl, Nancy Drew, at a show out in Cincinnati last year? Or was it when you got promoted to the ranks of Sergeant? I honestly can't remember. Or is it just my imagination, trying to dredge up memories of you?_

_The stores have their Christmas decorations up already and it's not even Christmas yet. Well, okay, two weeks to go, but you'd think they would wait, right? I've heard that Fredonia State University puts up their decorations in September, so I guess I can't really complain about the earliness bit. My little sister wrote her wish list for Santa last night and asked for you three to be returned home safely. Iola says that Chet is actually losing weight because he's not eating due to worry over you guys._

_I'm going to end here, before I start crying all over this and smudging the ink and instead go read Doc Savage to get my mind off this whole mess._

_I love you._

_Callie._

_P.S. get out of there before Joe does something drastic!_

--

_**A/N: About Frank's reaction to being captured. Stress does odd things to the mind. Even the onslaught of a simple migraine can cause a normally very calm person to have a panic attack. In other words, think an extreme version of finals week.**_

**_Also, I have no military experience whatsoever except for watching a special on Marine boot camp on the Military Channel last February and from what I've heard from a kid in my social sciences class._**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Immediately upon reaching home after the vigil, Joe went upstairs to his room. Digging into his closet, he found the meager collection of letters he'd received from Frank since his platoon had been called to Asia following December 7.

_Dear Joe,_

_I swear, if I see one more grain of rice I'm going to be sick. Sure,---------- has a great climate for growing rice, but after eating the stuff three times a day for two days running, well, let's just say it's tough to believe that I actually used to __like__ the stuff!_

_On our way over, we stopped at first --------, then ------------, to refuel. At --------------- we boarded at an Army hospital overnight. The nurses there were great, but can't hold a candle to Callie. Nickerson said the same thing about his girl, Nancy. You know how before I left we solved mysteries left and right? Seems Nancy does the same thing back home! _

_Anyway, at the hospital I got to talking with a lieutenant, said his name was McCrea; he was from Pennsylvania. He got injured last month, and next week he's going home to see his sisters for the first time since getting deported last year. Seems he's got at least five sisters, by the sounds of it, and only one brother, too._

_Lunch break's over, bro. I'll write, maybe even call, when I can. There's letters for Mother and Dad in here, too._

_Love,_

_Frank_

_

* * *

Dear Joe,_

_I meant to write a bit later, but didn't know if I'd have the chance. Anyway, Merry Christmas two weeks early! There should be a package coming soon for everyone back home,a nd I mean everyone—Mother and Dad, Grandmother and Granddad Foer, the Pritos, the Mortons, the Shaws—like I said, everybody._

_Love,_

_Frank_

_P.S. NO PEAKING IN THAT PACKAGE UNTIL CHRISTMAS!!!_

* * *

Biff Hoper rolled over to find Ned Nickerson kneeling over a barely conscious Frank Hardy, and drew a quick breath. 

"—But didn' tell 'em nuthin'," Frank slurred around a swollen, bloody jaw.

Ned shifted his weight to balance on his heels, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them and sighed. "Biff, looks like we've got the floor tonight. Hardy gets to kip on the cot." With Biff's help and not a little strain, Frank was soon on the cot a few moments later.

"OI!" Frank protested as Ned moved his leg onto the cot. "Tha' hur's!"

"Sorry, Hardy," Ned said. He slumped against the wall. "God, I wish we were home right now."

"Yeah," Biff agreed. "What was so important, anyway, about those old bones we were taking to Quinghuangdao, for them to attack us like that?"

"And why di' they wan' to know where those fossils were when I was wi' them?" Frank asked.

* * *

_**A/N: I did get a question or two about Ned's age. I don't know about the rest of you guys, but I always go the impression that Ned was quite a bit older than Frank and Nancy both. I mean, figure that Ned graduated from high school about Joe's age, 17, and Frank and Nancy are both roughly 18, give or take a few months. That would mean that, if he was a college alumnus at the point I'm depicting here, he'd probably be about 21 if he went to a regular 4 year school and graduated in 4 years. Now let's say that the draft caught Ned at around 19 or 20, and he didn't get to complete his bachelor's (4 years), so I would say that at the time this story takes place, he's probably 21 or 22. Does that answer questions for everyone (I hope)?**_

**_One other thing, so people don't complain that ffnet's acting up again. Back in WWII, it was pretty common for identifying place names to be blacked out of letters. I tried to stay true with that._**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Home is the Hunter

"_Aren't you worried about the Chinese Wild Man?"_

_Ned turned to stare at Biff. "What?"_

"_You know, the Chinese Wild Man. The Asian version of Bigfoot."_

_Ned shook his head and continued breaking a path in the jungle. If he recalled the map correctly, cutting through the jungle at this point would lead them to the Marine base, where they could get medical help for Biff and Frank both._

* * *

Ned woke with a start, banging the back of his head against the hard cement wall of the cell. Rubbing the sore spot as his eyes watered slightly, he sighed. It had been a dream. He and Biff and Frank were still in their cell. He leaned back and tried to find a soft spot on a cold stone floor.

* * *

Ned picked at the rice as he contemplated escape. And in order to do that, he had to go back to the scene of the attack, as Nancy would have put it.

"What's eating you?" Biff asked.

"A dream," was the curt reply. "Nothing that concerns you."

He remembered taking one of the skulls out of the box and fingering it, eying the braincase of the specimen. It was still gritty, which surprised him, even though it had been out of the dirt for over a year.

Who was it who had packed the specimens and asked for Marine assistance in transporting them to New York till after the war? He had to find that out—that might explain a lot. Like why his platoon had been attacked.

"_Give me land, lotsa land under starry skies above/Don't fence me in—_" Frank sang softly. Ned had to think for a minute before remembering that Frank liked Bing Cosby. "_Let me ride through the wide open country that I love/Don't fence me in. Let me be by myself in the evening breeze/And listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees/Send me off forever but I ask you please, Don't fence me in_."

"Do me a favour, Hardy, and quit singing," Ned snapped. He was already in a bad enough mood; he didn't need that song to remind him further of their predicament. If he closed his eyes and pictured Nancy, he could almost forget where they were. Almost.

* * *

_Dear Nancy,_

_You'll never get this, because I'm writing it in my head due to lack of paper here. I hate this, waiting for the next time they want to take out their anger on us. When will it end?_

_Anyway, I need your help. Do you have any suggestions for where to start looking in order to figure out why they want us? Or why they attacked us and took just me, Biff, and Frank prisoner? Is it because we're Americans? Or something else? Wish I knew. And I know that everyone back home is asking the same questions._

_They took Frank Hardy last night. Don't worry—he'll be okay, they just roughed him up a bit. Well, maybe "a bit" is an understatement, but believe me when I say he'll be okay._

_I dreamed about escaping last night; that dream gave me a bit of hope. I might just be able to find a way out of here. If they don't get me first._

* * *

As Ned had feared, he was next. But it was definitely a contradiction to his imagination as to what actually happened.

"Tea?" a very American voice asked as he was led into a bright room. After the gloom of the cell area, Ned blinked to get the suncats out of his eyes.

"No thanks, keeps me up at night," Ned retorted.

The man laughed. "You're wondering why you're here, yes? It's because I can't risk you taking those fossils back to New York."

"What do you mean?" Ned asked, puzzled. "Everyone, well almost everyone, on the dig back in Peking thought the site'd be a good place to verify Piltdown Man."

"Exactly the reason you can't take those fossils back to New York," the man said. "You handled one of the skulls. You know that the fossils are fake."

"Casts were made of those fossils," Ned warned him. "You won't get away with this. Hell, even as we speak, those casts are on their way to New York. The top anthropologists there will find out that your precious Piltdown Man is fake! They'll use the Peking Man fossils to help them!" He was pulled toward the entrance, but dug in his heels. "And just for the credit, I'm definitely not an expert in forgery."

* * *

"What happened?" Biff asked as Ned was thrust back into the cell.

"I found out why we're here," Ned said bitterly. "Those fossils we were supposed to be protecting are fake!"

* * *

A/N: Just a side-note on the Peking Man fossils. This is just my version of the story. I am an historical archaeologist, and I have done my homework for this fic. However, according to the research I've done, it seems that the casts that were made of the fossils way back before the war actually match up with fragments found at Choukoutien and elsewhere _**after**_ the war, in the 1960s. And even government-sponsored "expeditions" to try and find the missing fossils have turned up some interesting leads but little of consequence.

I'm not making any promises for updates until at least Thanksgiving break, maybe Christmas.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

"Find any thing interesting?" the Bayport Historical Museum curator, Paula Buchannon, asked me.

I nodded. "This whole collection of World War II stuff that was donated by the Shaw family seems to focus on two brothers, Frank and Joe Hardy. I'll have to analyse this a lot more, but from a news clipping that's in here, Frank was deported to China following Pearl Harbour, where he was captured while trying to guard the Peking Man fossils." I glanced up at Paula from the papers and manila folders spread out in front of me. "I'd really like to go talk with the people mentioned in here."

"And they are?"

"Frank and Joe, of course; er, Callie Shaw, someone named Biff Hooper (I'm pretty sure that Biff is a nickname of some kind), a brother and sister named Chet and Iola, a guy named Tony Prito, and the article mentions a Captain Ned Nickerson of River Heights, Ohio. Also, at one point Frank got a Purple Heart, for whatever reason that got included in here, so I almost want to say that he was close to Callie Shaw, and I dunno, he died and his war stuff got put in here when the house was being cleared out."

"There's a Hardy family who lives over on the corner of High and Elm Streets; you could try there on your way home," Paula said.

I nodded in agreement; the museum was only a mile from campus, it was actually nice out for once (which was surprising for the eighth of November), and I crossed an intersection at High and Elm Streets on my way back to my dorm.

Paula glanced at the clock; it was 3:30. I worked as an intern from 1:30 to 5 every Wednesday and Thursday at the museum, and loved it, even though the museum was supposed to be haunted. "If you want, you can leave now while it's still light and go check and see if the Hardys on Elm Street are any relation to Frank and Joe."

"Thanks, Paula," I said, and gently gathered everything, even the Purple Heart with Frank Hardy's name on it, back into the box, took it upstairs to the Registrar's office, and grabbed my bag and coat. On my way back down, I poked my head into the genealogy office. "See you next week," I told Harry.

"You leaving already?" he asked, looking up from a yellowed newspaper he was going through.

"Yeah," I said. "I've gotta go talk with a few World War II veterans over on Elm Street."

"Good luck."

"Thanks," I said over my shoulder as I pushed open the side door of the museum and stepped out into the cold fall air.

I was wondering what I'd find as I walked toward Elm Street. Would the family living there now be any relation to Frank or Joe? Would the brothers even be alive, still?

I reached the corner of High and Elm Streets within five minutes, and saw the name Hardy written on the mailbox. I took a deep breath, rummaged in my maroon shoulder bag for a notebook and pencil, and turned into the walkway. I walked up to the house, one of the older styles in the area that was in the Italianate architectural style, and knocked on the door.

"Erica, get that, will you?" a voice called from within. I smoothed my skirt nervously.

The door opened and a young face poked out. It was a girl, probably no more than fifteen, who had answered. "Yeah?" she asked. "If you're selling anything, we ain't interested."

"I'm Cassandra Lawrents, an intern at the historical museum just down the road," I said quickly. "I was wondering if you knew anything about Frank or Joe Hardy? I was told they used to live here."

"Just a minute," the girl said. She pulled her head back in and yelled, "Mom! Someone from the museum wants to talk with you!"

A few seconds later the girl's mother came to the door—I knew it was the mother because the girl bore such a strong resemblance to her. "Yes?"

"I'm Cassandra Lawrents, an intern at the historical museum just down the road," I said again. "I was wondering if you knew anything about Frank and Joe Hardy? I was told they used to live here, at least, they did during the Great Depression."

"Hardy, eh?" the woman said. She pursed her lips for a moment. "Well, Miss Lawrents—"

"Call me Cassie."

"Cassie, then. Well, Cassie, come in and I'll tell you what I know of them." She opened the door for me to enter the house.

"I inherited this place from Joe Hardy after he died," the woman said. "I'm his daughter, Vanessa Hardy. He's still here, though."

I nodded my head slightly; I could feel something in the house with us that wasn't exactly human, despite the three kids running around.

"Dad was a detective with the Bayport Police Department," Vanessa went on. "He was involved in World War Two, did you know that?"

"I knew his brother Frank got a Purple Heart, but that's about it. The museum got a donation from the Shaw family that had all that stuff in it."

"Uncle Frank got his Purple Heart in China. If you're looking through the Shaw donation, I'll wager there's a clipping in there about how he got captured there, right?" She ploughed on when I nodded. "Uncle Frank was shot trying to escape from a prison in Beijing. He made it to an army hospital in Australia, eventually recovered, and came home. He was under Colonel Harrington, who gave him the medal. Uncle Frank married Callie Shaw in 1950; Dad married Vanessa Bender in the same year, but she died in childbirth. That everything you wanted to know?"

I'd been scribbling down notes for the museum as Vanessa talked. "Er, no. How do Biff Hooper, Ned Nickerson, Chet and Iola Morton, and Tony Prito fit in to the story? And is Frank still alive?"

"If I remember correctly, Nickerson made it back to River Heights and married his girl Nancy Drew in 1953. I think there may be an old article on him in National Geographic, since he was the one who brought it to the scientific community's attention in the early 1950s that Piltdown Man was fake. Uncle Frank and Aunt Callie moved to Florida two years ago. As for the rest, I'm afraid I don't know." She swallowed. "You said that the Shaws donated the relics and letters?"

I nodded, stood up. "Look, I really have to get back, I promised my history study group I'd meet them at Erie for dinner."

"If you need anything, information, whatever, you're welcome to call," Vanessa said as she walked me to the door.

A young boy clutching a heavy textbook ran by, followed closely by the girl who had answered the door. "You brat!" the girl cried before she set eyes on her mother. "I'll get you—oh! Sorry, Mom."

"Go on upstairs to your room, Erica," Vanessa said.

"But Mom, Henry stole my _book_!"

"Now! You too, Henry!"

I left quietly.

* * *

"So how'd work go today?" Carl asked me as I met up with my history study group outside Erie. 

"Rough," I sighed, running a hand through my hair. My roommate last semester had pressured me into getting it cut in February, and it was finally noticeably starting to grow out. "I had to go over to the old Hardy house on Elm Street to ask some questions about a couple brothers named Frank and Joe Hardy."

"You're kidding me!" one of the other girls, Jess, exclaimed. "My grandmother was Callie Hardy! We just got back from Florida after clearing out their winter home."

I perked up and glanced at her. "What happened to Frank Hardy, then? D'you know? Vanessa Hardy, Joe's daughter, either didn't or wouldn't say."

Jess didn't look too happy. "Grandmum died about a month after they moved down there. Granddad finally decided that he wanted to move back up here in August. When we were clearing out the place for him, he put all his war stuff in a box and told us to donate it to a museum, even the Purple Heart he got from the officer he served under. Mom and Aunt Nessa weren't too chuffed about that."

I nodded, trying to memorise everything she'd just said. "D'you mind coming down to the museum with me tomorrow and helping me file the papers and other items?" I asked.

Jess shrugged. "Sure. I've got nothing else to do."

* * *

**A/N: Don't freak ****out if you think I'm ending Frank, Biff and Ned's story here. There's loads more to it, I just wanted to try a different approach to telling a Hardy Boys story, especially since it's taking place in the World War II era—but unfortunately writers' block hit for the WWII stuff. And yes, you really can figure out a lot of information about someone just from letters. However, half the time (as portrayed here), it's wrong and you often come up with three or four theories about a person before stumbling across some other clue in the letters. Yeah, it can get annoying sometimes.**


	6. Chapter 6

Frank Hardy felt old that night as he tossed restlessly in the queen bed that had been partly Callie's. He'd been to the doctor's the day before, and had been told that the pain in his ankle and knees was arthritis. The doctor had prescribed a pain medication for him, but Frank had afterward refused to let Ellen drive him to the pharmacy to fill it out.

He'd met up with Biff and Ned the weekend before, like they had every month since the war ended, to catch up on news. Ned was now a great-grandfather, he'd said Saturday at the small diner, and Nancy was beside herself with pleasure at the thought of watching another grandchild learn the ways of the world. Biff's niece's mare had foaled, and the newcomer was a gangly, soft brown filly that Frank knew would turn into a deep sorrel, like her dam. He felt left out, knowing that it was two months yet to his grandson's 21st birthday and almost six months to both his grandson's and granddaughter's college graduations.

Glancing at the clock as the telephone rang, he saw that it was only eight thirty—in July it was still light out at that time. Frank sighed and got out of bed; padded to the hall phone that was underneath a large bay window looking out onto the front yard. The thermometer next to the window read 70 degrees.

"Hullo, Uncle Frank," Vanessa Hardy said on the other line.

"Nessa!" Frank exclaimed. "Haven't heard from you in a while."

"Just thought I'd call and make sure you were okay and all," Nessa said.

"How're the kids?" he asked.

"Henry and Mitchell are still in the terrible twos stage," Nessa replied. "You'd think they'd come up with a new phrase for that. Like Frightful Fives. Or Sinister Sixes."

Frank chuckled. Yes, he knew what Nessa meant by that. Sounded like the twins had inherited Nessa's childhood wildness.

"Erica's working at the school library now," Nessa went on. "The librarian asked her if she was interested in helping out during her lunch period since both the librarian and the assistant librarian were busy then. Erica seems to really enjoy that. By the way, there's something I want to ask you."

"Ask away."

"There was a girl here from the museum today. Said she was Cassie Lawrents, an intern there. Wanted to know about a collection that the Shaws brought in that had your Purple Heart in it."

"What did you tell her?" Frank asked, cautiously.

"Just that I didn't know much about that, that you or Aunt Callie would know more."

"Nessa, I gave Ellen that stuff for a _reason_. I told her to do what she willed with it as long as I never had to see it again. She should have know that if a museum got it there would be an inquiry into who we were and why the museum received it in the first place."

"I—guess that's all," Nessa said. "I'm sorry I brought it up." A pause. "I love you, Uncle Frank."

Frank mumbled a suitable reply before both hung up. _Damn it,_ he fumed as he made his way downstairs to see if Star Trek was on TV. _The place already reminds me too much of Callie. Now this_.

* * *

Vanessa Hardy sat on the couch, staring at the phone in her hand and rubbed at her temple with her left fingers. Aunt Callie's death had been hard on her family, but especially her uncle. Henry and Mitchell weren't even born yet, much less known about, and Erica had been barely old enough to remember the funeral, how Ellen had tried to urge her father to speak about his wife, but Frank had refused. Perhaps it had been because Joe's accident had still been fresh in their memories, but whatever the reason, Ellen and Brian had ended up taking Frank home early. That evening, Ellen, Brian, and Nessa had packed away all of Callie's things in boxes while Frank stayed in the room he'd shared with her. As the boxes were being loaded into Michael's pickup, Frank had come down carrying a box of letters and medals. 

"Here," he'd said, thrusting the box at Ellen. Michael had peered over his mother's shoulder at the box. "I don't want these anymore."

"But, Dad, these are your _war_ things," Ellen protested, looking up at him. "Surely you want at least the medals!"

But Frank had adamantly shaken his head and had refused Ellen's attempts to shove the box back into his hands.

Michael had wanted them to hurry up, since he had to be back at school by Tuesday, and it was a 2-day drive back to Bayport, and from there a 10-hour drive to Fredonia State.

"And family's not important to you?" Ellen had demanded.

"You are," Michael replied, "But I can only miss three days' worth of classes before I get penalized and have to retake everything again with no reimbursement of tuition money. And by the time I get back, it'll be three days."

* * *

Frank had given up looking for Star Trek, and now was just staring at a music video on CMT. The old injury in his jaw was starting to hurt, telling him there was a storm brewing.

* * *

**_You'll find out why Frank's acting so strangely in the last chapter...so no comments on that--_****_yet!_**


	7. Chapter 7

Frank Hardy, 90, of Ocala, Florida, formerly of Elm St., Bayport, died Friday night in his home in Florida.

He was a veteran of WWII, having attained the rank of Captain and had received a Purple Heart following a skirmish in China.

He is preceded in death by his brother, Joseph Hardy, also formerly of Elm Street; his aunt, Gertrude Hardy; his parents, Fenton and Laura; and his wife, Callie Shaw. Surviving are a daughter, Ellen Hardy-Samuelson; a son, David; and a niece, Vanessa Larson, all of Bayport, NY. Grandchildren are Michael Samuelson of Fredonia, NY and Jessica Samuelson of Bayport, NY.

The funeral will be held at the Southside Funeral Home in Bayport, NY. Officiating minister will be the Reverend Aaron Pascoe.


	8. Chapter 8

Vanessa Hardy wiped a stray tear from her cheek as she listened to people talk about her uncle. Beside her, Henry and Mitchell, for once, were surprisingly quiet and actually sitting still. On her other side, Erica was having about as much luck as she in hiding the tears.

Frank's old platoon captain, Ned Nickerson, was speaking now. "I remember the first time I met Frank Hardy," Ned began. "I was twenty-three and had advanced rather rapidly through the ranks to make Captain. We met when our platoon was shipped to China. A few of you may remember that our platoon was given the assignment of guarding a group of fossils, Peking Man, on their way out of China. We were ambushed, and the people who had choreographed the ambush captured myself, Biff Hooper, and Frank Hardy."

Ned paused. "I won't go into details about our imprisonment. We all got roughed up a bit by our captors; but eventually we escaped and headed back to the Marine base in Peking. The three of us have met each month since the war ended. Since then, we have watched our children and grandchildren grow up, and recently Nancy and I became great-grandparents…"

Nessa tuned out the rest of what Ned had to say and glanced around the funeral home. Ellen, Michael, and Jess had come, of course (though Michael had thrown a fuss about missing more school); Biff and Joanne Hooper were there; of course, Nancy and Ned Nickerson, and David and his family. There were a few officers from the Bayport PD at the back of the room, and Nessa even noticed Cassie Lawrents in the crowd—though that mop of flame-red, flyaway curls would be difficult to hide under any circumstances short of straightening it and dying it brown.

* * *

After cars started leaving Bayview Cemetery, Nessa dragged Erica and the twins over to where Ellen, Jess, and Michael were standing by the Hardy plot.

"—I don't see why you can't stay another day." Ellen was arguing with Michael again about school. "Surely your professors will understand?"

But Michael shook his head. "Nope. Only military and jury duties are the accepted excuses for missing school besides a doctor's excuse. I've already missed enough school as it is. Any more and I won't be able to graduate in the spring."

"Give it up, Ellen," Nessa said. "You're fighting a losing battle." Michael and Jess wandered off a bit, probably to pay their respects to Fenton and Laura. Nessa noticed the mop of red curls heading their way.

Cassie Lawrents stopped a few feet from them, looking rather prim in a black skirt and a red- and white-striped black work blouse that, while low cut, revealed surprisingly little. Due to the unseasonably warm November weather, a tan blazer was draped over one arm; in her hand she held a familiar cardboard box.

"I thought—or rather, the curator of the museum and I thought—you'd like these back," the girl said, holding the box out to Nessa and Ellen.

Ellen teared up as she took the box. "Dad's old war things," she whispered, fingering the Purple Heart carefully laid on top of the letters and other medals. She glanced up at Cassie. "Thank you."

Cassie inclined her head slightly. "You're welcome," she said, and glanced at her watch. "Look, I've got to get back to the museum before it closes. And if you still think you want us to have that, give us a call." She turned and set off at a brisk walk down through the headstones to the road.

"Thank you!" Nessa called after the girl, but either Cassie refused to acknowledge the gratitude or she didn't hear.

"C'mon, kids," Ellen told Jess and Michael, and Nessa looked for her own children as well.

"Ellen, I know I've rather put you on the back burner lately," Nessa said, taking a deep breath. "We practically grew up as sisters, even though we're only cousins. I'm sorry if we don't see each other as often as we should."

Ellen eyed Henry and Mitchell, who were being herded toward their mother by Erica. The girl had a firm grip on each twin's arm, and she looked furious. "Mom, let's not give these guys sugar for breakfast ever again," Erica growled. "I caught them over by the fountain clear up by Barker Street Extension. Pulling up urn plants."

So that explained the dirt on the twins' hands and their good Sunday clothes. "Get them in the car and we'll deal with it on the way home," Nessa sighed.

"But Mom—" Mitchell whined.

"_Now_!"

"I can understand why," Ellen said. "All I can say is that I'm glad George decided to wait to file the divorce papers till after Jess got into high school." Erica was shouting at Mitchell in the background.

Nessa sighed again. "I wish Brian had," she said She caught hold of Mitchell's arm as he ran past, and gripped it tightly while Erica kept track of Henry. "Look, I'll meet you at your place, okay? We'll be a few minutes yet."

"All right," Ellen said as she and Nessa walked up the path to the cars, a struggling Mitchell in tow. "But I'm warning you, the place is a disaster area with both Jess and Michael home."

* * *

In the end, Henry and Mitchell were firmly buckled into their seats, having been given dire threats of punishment if they didn't behave properly, and Nessa looked over at the casket as she steered the old Subaru down the driveway near it. _Sleep well, Uncle Frank_, she thought before she turned on to High Street.

She may have imagined it, but when she glanced in the rear view mirror to reprimand Henry, she swore she saw Frank and Callie both, standing under the tall willow tree in the center of the cemetery, as young as in their wedding photo.

"What is it, Mom?" Erica asked.

Her aunt and uncle were gone. Nessa shook her head and turned her attention back to the road, a difficult task with Henry kicking the underside of her seat.

"Nothing," she replied. "Only a memory."


	9. Chapter 9

Fenton Hardy woke with a start from the dream. Every so often, whether due to his detective work or something else, he had odd dreams like the one he'd just had. This time he was certain he'd dreamt of Frank's involvement in World War II because of the events of the previous week and a half.

The phone rang again, insistently, and Fenton realized it had been the phone that woke him. "Hullo?" he said groggily, glancing over at the clock. 11:52—eight minutes to the year 2008.

"Fenton." Ezra's voice boomed in his ear. "I have someone here who wants to talk with you."

Fenton was suddenly wide awake. "Put them on."

"Hi, Dad," Frank's voice said.

Fenton sank back into the pillows with relief as Laura woke up beside him.

"Honey, who's on the phone?" she asked sleepily.

He waved at her to be quiet. "Frank, thank God! How'd you manage to escape?"

"Lots of help from Con and Collig," was the reply. His son yawned. "Happy New Year," Frank added.

"You too," Fenton said. Laura was trying her best to listen in. "Look, we'll be down to pick you up in a few minutes, okay? Oh, and Callie has a surprise for you."

"The baby—?" Frank gasped. He and Callie had been married now for nearly two years, and had surprised them all on Father's Day with the announcement that Fenton and Laura would soon be grandparents.

"I'm not supposed to say anything," Fenton said with a grin. "Not even that much. Callie will kill me."

* * *

"Joe, wake up," Laura said, shaking her youngest son.

"Wha—Did Collig call?" Joe asked eagerly.

"Yes," Laura said. "He's okay! They found Frank!"

Another figure appeared in the doorway. "Who was on the phone?" Nancy Drew asked. "Chief Collig? Is Frank okay?"

"They found him! Come on, you two, we're supposed to be down at the station in a few minutes to pick him up. Nancy, you want to wake Ned?"

* * *

"I missed you," Fenton said as they piled around Frank in a group hug. Collig stood off to one side, enjoying the best part of a happy return in a kidnapping case.

"C'mon, cough up!" Frank said as they pulled away. "What's the baby? A boy or a girl? I'm not waiting till morning to find out!"

"A girl," Laura said, grinning. "Named after your grandmother."

"Which one? Anna or Ellen?"

"Ellen, of course," Joe said. Laura's smile was becoming contagious. "Everyone else already knows. Chet and Tony are already making plans that she'll help them out at Mr. Pizza when she's older."

* * *

"Hi," Frank said, peeking into the hospital room.

"Frank!" Callie exclaimed. "When did you get back?"

"Last night. They wouldn't let me call you. Where's my baby girl?"

"She's right here," Callie told him, shifting the small form so he could see. "Meet Daddy, Ellen."

"She's adorable."

"There's something else. Her middle name's Laura, after your mother."

Frank tried it. "Ellen Laura Hardy. Callie, it's perfect!"

There was a gentle knock on the door. "Mind if we join you?" Nancy asked.

"Come on in," Callie said. She looked from Nancy to Ned's grin. "Okay, spill!"

"Ned and I are getting married!" Nancy crowed. Ellen gurgled as her parents offered their congratulations.

* * *

Ellen was brought home the following day. "Aunt Gertrude would have loved her," Frank said quietly as he and Callie had dinner that night. As they'd rearranged the furniture in their small cottage as Ellen's birthday came nearer, the girl now slept on the couch near the table. "When was she born? I never did ask that question."

"Christmas Eve," Callie said. "I'm sorry you missed it."

"Don't be," Frank replied, reaching over and pulling a blanket closer around his daughter. "Seeing her now is enough for me."

* * *

_**A/N: Yes, that's the last chapter. And a sequel is NOT planned, for those who were going to ask.**_


End file.
